


Victory Comes and Goes

by Syrinx



Series: Gravity [5]
Category: Thoroughbred
Genre: Angst, F/M, Holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-19
Updated: 2007-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrinx/pseuds/Syrinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve and a revelation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory Comes and Goes

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: through Samantha's Pride

Cave Run Creek, named after the more well known Cave Run Lake that lay closer to the mountains than the bluegrass, ran through the property of Townsend Acres. It bubbled over smooth dark rocks, and pooled darkly underneath small waterfalls as it wound its way through the pastures and groves of deciduous forest. There were often groups of Kentucky wildflowers clustering around the creek's banks, all bright bursts of white, pink, red and yellow.

Now there was snow. A deep white blanket of frozen water covered the ground around the creek. Icicles hung over the embankments and dipped into the bitter cold liquid. The hibernating trees were coated with ice, their branches weighed down with snow. Everything glittered in the winter sun, and glowed in the full moonlight.

The creek passed near the farm mansion, rushing in freezing currents under wood bridges stained dark brown, and past bridle paths kept for well-groomed saddle horses. It flowed into a deep pool near the empty backyard, and the patios lined with hedges and azaleas that would flower in the spring.

Ashleigh Griffen stood inside the mansion, looking out the window as she watched the way the Christmas lights that lined the house reflected on the water of the creek. There were people all around her, drifting in and out of conversations, talking about the much-anticipated Eclipse Awards, picking hors d'oeuvres off of silver platters, sipping at champagne and wine.

It was partially an annual event and partially celebratory. Clay Townsend and his wife, Katherine, always threw this party on Christmas Eve. It was well known as the social event of the inner circle of elite Kentucky horse owners, and everybody who was anyone was there. As the farm's employee, Ashleigh had not received an invitation. Only through Ken Maddock and Brad Townsend had Ashleigh gained admittance, but she was starting to wish they had never asked her to attend.

"See something interesting?" she heard Mike Reese ask next to her, resting a hand against the windowsill and looking at her curiously.

"No," Ashleigh shook her head, smiling at him. "Just watching the creek."

"They've got gorgeous grounds," Mike nodded, stating the obvious. "It makes Whitebrook look like a quaint country cottage."

"Some people like the quaint country cottage look," Ashleigh pointed out, glancing back at the people in the room they stood in. Men milled in expensive suits, women talked together in expensive gowns, while fingering beautiful jewelry – priceless heirlooms better left in a vault than worn in public. They were all diamonds and silk, whereas Ashleigh was anything but.

"I feel a little out of place here," she admitted, not being able to count the condescending looks she had been receiving all night. She was just the lowly assistant trainer here, hardly important enough to look at.

"Oh, come on, Ash," Mike said. "This is the world you're all eager to enter, remember? This is what we can both look forward to."

"Yippee," Ashleigh remarked dryly, hardly able to see herself in a silk dress with strings of pearls around her neck. Acting high society wasn't going to be her strong suit. As Ashleigh looked around the room, her eyes flicked over the ten-foot tall Christmas tree, dazzling gold and pine green, and she saw Brad Townsend talking closely with a blonde woman in deep red. Watching their interaction had Ashleigh convinced about how well she could stand this.

Suddenly a crystal ringing started to reverberate across the room, and Ashleigh's attention was brought to Clay Townsend, whom was putting down a silver spoon after having tapped it on his glass.

"Good evening," Clay Townsend started. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces here at our little gathering. I was just telling Katherine…"

Ashleigh zoned out then, refusing to listen to the unimportant chatter of jokes told by Clay Townsend in front of a room of people just like himself. Instead she glanced back at Brad, whom was watching his father diligently, almost intensely, with the blond just at his side. He had not spoken to her this evening outside of a quick greeting. Ashleigh hadn't expected much else, as she had spoken to Brad only a few times a month since the Belmont Stakes. Those times had been more business than even she was used to with Brad, making her wary and somewhat confused. Why on earth had he personally shown up at her apartment door to practically order her to come to this event when he didn't have plans to acknowledge her beyond a head nod? It was Christmas Eve, and Ashleigh could count a million things she'd rather do than this.

"And, as we all know, we're here to celebrate the nominations to the Eclipse Awards. Five, in fact…"

Shifting on her heels, Ashleigh ticked off the horses before Mr. Townsend got to them. Townsend Princess and Her Majesty for best two-year-old filly, and Lord Ainsley and Wonder's Pride for best three-year-old colt and horse of the year. The only problem was that Townsend Acres owned only two of those horses, and it hadn't been nominated for the most notable award – best owner. That was when Brad got the cue.

"I can't say much," Brad began, the blonde turning her head attentively to him. "Cave Run Stables is so new it's hard to digest that it's been so wildly successful in no more than a year…"

Indeed it had been, Ashleigh snorted to herself. Partial reason why she hadn't spoken to Brad much after the Belmont Stakes was because he had been in England a good percentage of the time, looking at stock and buying. She had gotten the random phone call in the middle of the night, Brad instructing her to tell Maddock this and tell Maddock that because Maddock was always asleep when Brad called for anything.

Brad had come home with four two-year-olds and five older horses. Two of them had been Her Majesty and Lord Ainsley. All had been bought with Brad's money, under the newly minted Cave Run Stables.

During the Breeders' Cup all that could be discussed was Cave Run, and with good reason; the fledgling racing operation had gained an Eclipse nomination for best owner because of that day. Her Majesty pummeled Townsend Princess in the Juvenile Fillies, and Lord Ainsley won by a head bob over Super Value in the Classic. Brad was now running one racing operation within another, racing his own horses under Cave Run Stables' green and silver silks, and consulting and still heir to his father's horses under Townsend Acres' green and gold. It was the ultimate business safety cushion.

Ashleigh tilted her head to the side, creating a semblance of listening. She had been silently critical of Brad's moves in the past few months, taking his creation of Cave Run not as a business he could control with no questions asked, but as a life preserver. In Ashleigh's mind, Brad was preparing to jump ship on Townsend Acres, deeming it unworthy of being saved, or not able to be. That part hadn't been determined.

With her feet beginning to ache, Ashleigh gave Mike a pressed lipped smile and told him she was going to find a bathroom. This was an excuse to take a stroll. Find a chair to sit down in. A dim, quiet corner of the house would do.

The mansion was old and stately. It reminded Ashleigh of any old plantation home, only with additions that doubled the structure's size. The floors were polished hardwood; photographs dating back to who knows when clustered along the walls in the hallways. Everything was crystal and dark wood, bathed in warm yellow light.

Ashleigh wandered into the main hallway, running her hand over the banister of the grand curving staircase. No one had climbed to the upper floor that Ashleigh had seen, and so she aimed to be the first. The stairs squeaked quietly underneath her feet as she passed. The second floor was silent, lit only by another Christmas tree's strings of tiny white lights.

This felt better to Ashleigh, who stopped next to the tree, looking out the frost edged windows. The front pastures of the farm could be seen from this vantage point, white fences topped with snow, casting shadows over the ground. There were no horses to be seen out tonight. They were tucked away in the stables, milling in their unnatural enclosures.

Behind the Christmas tree Ashleigh spotted a framed photo of Wonder, and was more than surprised to see herself holding on to the mare's halter. She must have been fifteen in the photograph, but she could not see the details. The lights on the tree were sparkling and reflecting off the glass, obscuring everything.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs distracted Ashleigh away from the photograph, and she turned to see Brad appearing in front of her. Neither looked surprised.

"You know the second floor is private," he said, leaning against the banister. Ashleigh considered him for a moment, and shrugged.

"I was tired of the first floor," she said. "I didn't think I was going to hurt anything."

"You're not," Brad told her, staying where he was.

Ashleigh crossed her arms over her chest, deciding to avoid the more obvious questions like "well, what are you doing up here?" and, what she was burning to ask, "who was the girl?" But those were too personal for her to delve into. She and Brad did not do personal. Instead, she just looked at him blankly and said, "Congratulations on the nominations."

"Oh, come off it," Brad said. "I know how you feel about Cave Run."

"And what's that?" Ashleigh asked, raising an eyebrow, acting coy.

Brad didn't miss a beat. He put one hand on the railing, propped against it casually. "You've been pretty clear about Cave Run, Ashleigh. That it's some sort of great treachery."

"Well, isn't it?" Ashleigh responded. "Not seven months ago you were lecturing me on the street about how Townsend Acres was on the fast track to bankruptcy. Here you are now with a young, already successful racing operation that could very well deal the deathblow to the farm you're heir to. I'd say it's worse than treachery. It's cowardice."

"It's astonishing how much you talk about things you have no clue of," Brad told her, hardly ruffled by her outburst.

"Oh, please," Ashleigh scoffed, laughing. "You were freaked out after the Belmont Stakes, and then you flew off to England. I assume you were a little more than motivated to keep your head above water."

"So you'd rather me drown. Is that what you're saying?" Brad asked darkly, finally pushing off of the railing and walking across the polished hardwood to her, making her crane her head back to look him in his deep brown eyes.

"Well, Brad, what have you done for anyone lately?" Ashleigh asked, noting the way he smirked at her then, the warm shine of the Christmas lights bathing them in a gold glow, giving his dark hair chestnut highlights.

"All out for myself, am I?" he asked curiously, stopping a little too close to her. Close enough to make Ashleigh's spine itch, although she stood her ground.

"So it would appear," Ashleigh said, getting another smile that she found so infuriating.

"Maybe you're right, Griffen," he said, shrugging. "But who's to say what I'm to do with the money my horses bring in?"

"You've never been that generous in your life," Ashleigh scoffed, amused by the very idea that Brad would funnel his earnings, even a small percentage of them, into Townsend Acres. "Plus, that has to be illegal."

"Not so much," he answered. "You could consider it another loan the farm can't repay."

Then, before Ashleigh could respond, Brad broke new ground.

"Mike kept you entertained tonight?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" Ashleigh responded, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Mike Reese," Brad clarified when he knew he didn't need to. "You and he seem to have some sort of rapport."

"I should hope so," Ashleigh said, letting out a nervous laugh. "He's one of my better friends."

"That a fact?" Brad asked.

"The idea that I might have a life outside of work surprise you?" Ashleigh asked.

"No, I'm just wondering why Mike," Brad answered.

"There's nothing to wonder about," Ashleigh said. "Why do you even care? I could be asking why the blonde in the red dress, but that would be weird."

"Why are you wondering about the blonde in the red dress?" Brad asked.

"Stop mocking me," Ashleigh told him. "You were the one bringing this up. Not me."

"The blonde is Lavinia Hotchkins-Ross," Brad told her.

"Oh, old money," Ashleigh laughed shortly. "Thinking of marrying into another family to make ends meet?"

"That's rather crass, Griffen," Brad said.

"But not true," Ashleigh said.

"What do you think?" Brad asked.

"Like I even care," Ashleigh laughed.

"You know," Brad said, "you should think a little more seriously about Mike. He'd help you get out of that cinder block home. God knows you need the boost."

"What is your problem?" Ashleigh asked, seething. "You insisted I come to this, and now you're all over me for something I wasn't aware bothered you."

"Don't flatter yourself, Griffen. It hardly bothers me."

"Are you somehow deluded?" Ashleigh asked, narrowing her eyes and moving forward. Her arm brushed against the tips of the tree branches, sending the glass ball ornaments trembling. "What have we been talking about again?"

One of the larger ornaments rolled off of the tree and shattered, tiny shards of gold colored glass exploding on the dark wood floor. The noise made both draw back from each other, almost reluctantly, as though they both didn't want to bother with the mess.

"Help me," Ashleigh said finally, kneeling down on the floor. Hesitantly, as though persuaded to do something he wasn't used to, Brad did the same. Together they brushed up the glass into cupped palms, the larger pieces glinting like something priceless in the light, the smaller pieces clinging to their skin.

There was a muttered apology from Ashleigh about the ornament, and a delayed acceptance from Brad. She wasn't looking at him, too busy finding the last glass piece or too confused to face him. Their hands brushed at the knuckles, going for the same miniscule remains of the ornament.

Finally, when Ashleigh thought she had all that she could find of the glass, glittering like amber diamonds in her hands, she looked up and was taken aback to see Brad watching her. He crouched there on the balls of his feet, one hand filled with sharp, jagged pieces and the other flat against the floor. He had those honey-brown eyes, revealing nothing going on behind them, and Ashleigh didn't want to look away. She never had.

The glass fell from his hand back to the floor, flowing in a sparkling gold waterfall to scatter across the hardwood. That hand, with so many tiny pieces of yellow glass clinging to the skin, buried into her hair at the back of her head, drawing her to him. She had nowhere to go but forward.

His mouth smashed to hers, too hungry for something neither was allowed. The force of it pushed her backward, making her drop the glass in her hands so she could steady herself against the floor. She placed a hand to his chest, rubbing tiny flints of gold glass into his dress shirt, creating a random pattern there that would shine the rest of the night, although no one would notice.

She had not expected this, although maybe she should have. Now, as she kissed him back, lips slanting and tongues playing between teeth, she understood why he wanted her here tonight; why he included her at all.

Then she pushed back, shoving as hard as she could. The kiss broke, Brad falling back as she slid away from him, spreading the glass across the floor. She hastily got up, neither saying a word, and turned away, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as she made her exit to the grand old staircase.

She couldn't help but feel that he was laughing behind her. He had made his mark, however subtle. In the right light the tiny pieces of glass in her dark hair would shine, glinting yellow and gold.

None were the wiser.


End file.
